


Starry, Starry Night

by ElBevuardo



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, Yogscast
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElBevuardo/pseuds/ElBevuardo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Trott has always spent Guy Fawkes Night alone, staring out of a window at the fireworks in the starry night sky. But what might happen on the first year that he has somebody to watch the fireworks with him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starry, Starry Night

**Author's Note:**

> I based this fanfiction on a prompt I received absolutely ages ago, but I held off on writing it because I couldn't quite get a feel for the pairing to begin with, and even now, the personalities of the pairing have grown on me more than the people being paired themselves. (The prompt was: "Troffy, staring up at the stars at a bonfire holding hands and listening to friends sitting around them rambling drunk off their heads", and of course I changed a few things. Since it was Guy Fawkes Night when I finally got around to writing this, it felt only fitting to mention fireworks.) I'm kind of shit at writing prompts, but I was bored and have this massive list of prompts to work through *nervous sweats* But, I digress. Enjoy!

Flames flickered high in the night sky, the roaring of flames louder than the mess of voices rising into the night around the bonfire. The screech of fireworks in the distance could be heard, feeling like a world away from the clearing where they had constructed their makeshift bonfire, but the flashes of light that washed over the browning grass said otherwise about the distance.

November 5th's celebrations had always been a lonely affair for Trott, in passing years; he had generally spent Guy Fawkes Night, as a child, staring longingly out of his bedroom window at the fireworks exploding into brilliant bursts of colour in the night sky, alone, and as he had grown up, only the setting had changed. It was only now, during his first year at university, that he was not alone at a bedroom window, staring into the night like a lonely animal.

Absently, he glanced up into the sky, watching another firework explode into a brilliant flash of red and gold. Past these brilliant colours was a dark blanket dotted with tiny shining orbs that somebody in the past had named, rather belittlingly, "stars". What was so wonderful about the word, that something as fascinating as the tiny dots glaring all across the sky infinitely should be named something so mundane, so undervaluing? He found himself wondering if there truly was anything which could compare to how wonderful the stars looked in the sky that evening, whether a single word or an existing object, or even a living being. His eyes flickered almost unconsciously to his left, and his cheeks flushed red as he realised what he was doing. No, this would not do.

He looked back into the sky, following the near-instant path of a firework sky-rocketing into the night, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the figure to his left jump a little from where they sat. Cheers erupted every time a firework finished its quick ascent and then shattered into brilliant shards of light, and Trott let a smile slide onto his red-flushed face. He wasn't sure, if he was honest, whether his face was red-flushed from the nipping cold of the early-November air, the heat of the bonfire being so nearly dangerously close, or the closeness of the person to his left, their shoulder brushing theirs as they jumped at the loud boom of a firework detonating in the night sky, a quick chuckle or a contented hoot escaping their lips. He didn't want to think about it possibly being the latter option, but nonetheless his cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes on the sky.

He could hear a familiar voice rising up in the night, and it took him a moment to realise where it was coming from, so close to his ear. Of course he would be speaking into his ear; everyone was so loud, and music was blaring from somebody's car halfway across the clearing, and the fireworks were so incredibly, beautifully deafening, and the only way to be heard would just happen to be the method which brought heat back into Trott's already burning cheeks.

"I could've brought better ones, mate. Ross hasn't got the best taste in explosives." Smith chuckled into his ear. Trott didn't dare turn his head to look at his friend; he knew how close their faces were, and one turn of his head could be incredibly embarrassing, for both of them. He found himself gripping the blanket underneath him almost nervously, fingers digging into the soft fabric as he watched another firework fly into the air, and heard everyone cheer.

"He hasn't got the best taste in almost anything, has he?" Trott agreed with an almost absent smile on his face. Smith chuckled again.

"Probably too busy jacking off to bother, the randy little fuck. Only taste he's got is his taste in porn. What a pleb." Smith spoke, jokingly, through gritted teeth, and Trott grinned. He loved his friend's sense of humour, he really did.

What he _didn't_ really love, however, was how close Smith still was to him, almost glued to his side. He could feel his cool breath on his cheek, and gritted his own teeth tightly, trying to distract himself by watching another firework fly upwards. Did Smith know how awkward this closeness made him feel? Could he see how red his cheeks were, or did he blame that on the red light emanating from the nearby bonfire? Maybe he'd noticed his hands gripping the blanket beneath them, and hadn't commented. Trott prayed to a dozen unnameable deities that the man hadn't noticed.

A couple of minutes passed, fireworks flying into the sky quickly, one after the other, and a song and a half had played from the car across the clearing, before Trott was snapped out of his reverie. He felt something cold brush against his hand, and risked a quick glance down, teeth still gritted. Then, realising it was a hand, he glanced almost helplessly towards Smith, eyes wide and almost bugging out of his head, mouth agape, cheeks roaring like the bonfire to their right. Smith was staring up at the sky, reclining back and resting all his weight on one elbow, and his other arm was stretched out slightly, to rest his hand on Trott's rather smaller one. He didn't seem fazed, didn't seem bothered. Had he not noticed where he'd put his hand? Trott felt as though he should have told him, should have pointed it out, so Smith wouldn't feel awfully embarrassed, but the burning in his cheeks and the anxious twisting in his gut stopped him, and he stared down at their hands, and then at Smith, and then back again, for what felt like an age.

"Uh. Smith?" Trott was aware of how shaky and unsure his voice sounded, and he cleared his throat. "Uhm. You're kind of..." He didn't know how to say it, and so when Smith glanced away from the sky to look at Trott, the shorter man just flicked his eyes down to their hands a few times, and then back up to meet Smith's relaxed gaze. Smith glanced down, nonchalantly, and then looked back at Trott, cocking an eyebrow.

"Is something wrong, mate?" Smith asked, smiling almost lazily, like one of Ross's dogs after eating an almost mountain-esque bowl of leftovers when it was Smith's turn to cook dinner. Something stirred in Trott's stomach at the sight, and inwardly, he cursed himself. Dammit, what was he getting himself wound into here? Smith was his friend, he couldn't seriously be getting flustered over this?

Then again, he'd been getting flustered over this for a while, hadn't he? His cheeks continued to burn as he stared almost incredulously at Smith.

"Oh, I get it. Hand's in the wrong place, mate." Trott almost breathed a sigh of relief, until Smith grinned wickedly and shifted his hand to Trott's thigh. It was all the smaller man could do to keep from leaping to his feet with fright, and he felt the heat spreading from his cheeks to every other part of his face, his eyes wide behind his glasses. Smith was smirking. "You randy little fucker, you like that don't you!" Smith laughed, before sliding his hand away again, resting it back on top of Trott's. Trott remained still, staring at Smith, glued to the spot, stuck in position. "You all right, Trott, mate?"

"Just fine. Yeah." Trott glanced back up at the sky, aware that his body was turned almost entirely to face Smith's as he watched fireworks explode in the night sky. The stars were always wonderful at this time of year. "You could've said ' _no homo_ ' first, you twat. Now we're both gay as fuck." Trott tried to joke, but his voice was slightly higher, shakier, than it normally was. Could he blame that on the cold? No, the bonfire ensured he wasn't too chilly, he couldn't use such a blase excuse. Smith could see right through him at the best of times, and with such a pathetic excuse, Trott would be positively transparent.

Smith chuckled at Trott's words, and then fell silent, watching the lights in the sky, and then glancing all about him, eyes dancing as they studied the dark sky, doing just as Trott had done not five minutes before, studying the stars. Trott found himself watching his friend with a strange curiosity, his larger hand still resting atop Trott's own.

He looked so young and captivated as he stared up at the sky, and Trott realised he was smiling, with a strange childlike wonder on his face. Trott tried to cover up his own obviously childlike wonder at Smith's expression, by looking up at the sky himself, his cheeks still burning red as he realised that, for at least a couple of minutes there, he had just been staring at his friend's eyes. Dammit, they were so blue; typically, Smith would have auburn hair and blue eyes, wouldn't he? And that damned smile, he looked so peacefully happy, so content, just looking up at the sky. Trott felt his gut stir uncomfortably with something, and before he knew it, he was staring anxiously down at their hands on the blanket. What was this, just Smith being friendly? The taller man wasn't generally one for physical contact, and in fact, one of the first things he had learned about the fellow was that he wasn't fond of hugs or unnecessary physical contact in general, so...why was he touching Trott's hand like this, as if it was the easiest, most normal thing in the world? It didn't make sense.

"Oi, Trott." Trott heard Smith say, his voice low, and he glanced up anxiously to meet Smith's gaze. He was grinning almost wickedly, and something in Trott's gut stirred again. What was he up to now, with a grin like that? His blue eyes glared with mischief, and it was all Trott could do to keep from looking away in embarrassment. "No homo."

And then, before Trott had the chance to jump back, to move out of the way, or even become aware of what was happening, Smith's lips were on his own, and that was that.

A second passed, so brief, before Smith pulled away again, and settled back down into the same position as before, resting all his weight on one elbow, his hand still resting on Trott's as he stared up into the night sky with the same wondering, fascinated look as before, as though he had never kissed Trott, as though he had never said a thing to him, as if his hand wasn't still resting atop Trott's.

Trott studied him for a second, wide-eyed, face burning, the feeling of Smith's lips on his own branded into the front of his mind. He heard fireworks exploding in the sky, but couldn't bring himself to look at them as he watched his friend, startled, a funny feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach.

Maybe there was something, after all, which compared to how wonderful the stars looked in the sky that evening, and Trott seemed to have found that something as Smith met his eyes again, squeezing his hand reassuringly with his own as he winked, that wicked grin creeping onto his face again.

"What? I said ' _no homo_ ' first, mate."


End file.
